Harry's Gloves - A Christmas Story
by lyiint
Summary: Just a little story that I post every Christmas, based on a Christmas story I heard on the radio. Hope you enjoy. :)


Harry's Gloves – A Christmas Story.

It was Draco's idea to take Scorpius with him to Inverness so he could visit his mother, Astoria, and her new husband, Harper. They left on a Thursday night and had a two hour layover at the London Apparation point before they could continue on to the one in Glasgow. While they waited, they bought sandwiches at a small diner, and watched a group of carolers while they ate. A young girl ran by, squealing and laughing while her father chased diligently after her.

"You should give Harry an I-phone for Christmas. Floo calls suck," ten year old Scorpius stated, staring down at the open notebook on the table in front of him. The word Harry was written at the top of the page. Underneath there was a long list of items, but each one was crossed off.

It was very near to Christmas, and for the first time in his life, Scorpius Malfoy was as obsessed with the gifts he was going to give, as he was with the ones he was going to get. Make no mistake, he had already written up a list for himself. Written it, and revised it, and presented it. But this year, what Scorpius was really taken up with, was the impulse to splurge on his family.

No handmade quill holders for Scorpius this year. Scorpius wanted to buy stuff. Good stuff. He had already bought two pretty pink scarf and hat sets, one for Lily, and one for his younger half-sister, a CD for James of his favorite Muggle band, a Reusable Hangman game for Albus, bought from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, a crystal figurine for his mother, tickets to the next Quidditch match for Harper, and a book on rare and extraordinary spells for his father. But he was having trouble with Harry. He wanted to get him something really cool, but everything he looked at far exceeded the amount he had left from what his father had given him for an allowance, even though Draco had already raised his allowance, since he knew his son wanted to buy presents this year.

Draco, wanting Scorpius to learn the value of money, would not give him any more, and resisted the sad, puppy eyed expressions his son had been giving him.

Scorpius put his sandwich down, and picked up his quill. He wrote 'new Broomstick Servicing Kit' at the bottom of the list, and then he frowned, shook his head, and scratched it out.

Harper had offered to pick them up at the Glasgow Apparation Center. Draco had declined, thanking Harper, but telling him they would rent a Muggle car instead. Draco had had his driver's license for quite a few years, but the novelty of driving, especially driving a car that couldn't fly, had not worn off. So he took any excuse he could to indulge himself.

Car obtained, off they set into the cold Scottish night, along the M74 and then onto the A9; through Stirling and Perth, through Blair Atholl and Kingussie. Big inflatable Santas swayed in the wind and LED icicles hung from all the eaves of the Muggle houses, magically animated Santas and fairy lights were found at the wizarding ones that they passed.

"Everyone has lights up here," Scorpius said excitedly, his nose pressed to the cold glass of the car window.

"Well, it's darker around here," Draco answered with a chuckle.

It was a perfect visit. On Saturday morning, Draco took Scorpius, and his half-sister, Marigold, over to McCullough's woodlot to get a Christmas tree. They hiked up the long, sloping trail through forests of Guelder Rose, Hawthorn, and Scots Pine, their breath puffy and white. It was just like when Draco was a kid and had gone with his father to pick out their own Christmas tree back in Wiltshire.

That night after supper, the musical instruments came out. Harper's sister, Anne, had her violin, and everyone joined in, playing or singing along…except Scorpius. He was sitting in the corner writing in his notebook.

Draco and Scorpius left on Sunday afternoon, the sky gray and heavy with the promise of snow. They were about forty minutes coming through the Highlands, twisting and turning through the forests and the farms, when Scorpius broke the silence.

"I can't seem to find a suitable present for Harry," Scorpius said dejectedly.

"He really liked the quill holder you made him last year. Maybe you could make him something again."

"I want to buy him something," Scorpius complained with the lilt of a whine to his voice.

"Ahh," said Draco, as they drove out of the hills. "It's hard to shop for Harry."

"Yes," agreed Scorpius.

"He loves everything you give him."

"Exactly," Scorpius said with a sigh.

"And you want to give him…the perfect thing."

"Exactly."

"That is indeed difficult," Draco reiterated.

"And expensive," Scorpius groaned, giving his father a pleading, can-you-spare-a-Sickle stare, which Draco ignored.

There may be no better place in the world for a father and a son to have a heart to heart conversation than in a car moving through the night. First off, they don't have to look at one another. Secondly, and most importantly, they both know that if things get awkward, the ride will eventually come to an end, and with it, the awkwardness too.

Draco reached out and turned down the radio. "Did I ever tell you about my and Harry's first Christmas?"

Scorpius was staring at the road, but he turned his head towards his father in interest. "No, but I know you meet at school."

Draco smiled. "Well, actually the first day we met was in Madam Malkin's robe shop."

"He didn't like you," Scorpius stated. He had heard this story before.

"Not then," Draco agreed, smiling in the semi-darkness of the car, the lights of the dashboard illuminating his face softly. They both sat quietly for a moment, Draco lost in the glow of memory.

"But he liked you later. He brought your wand back, after the war," Scorpius said, breaking into Draco's thoughts.

"Yes," Draco agreed. "He made a pretty big impression on me then."

"What happened after that?" Scorpius asked curiously.

"Nothing, at first," Draco admitted, "but I couldn't get over the fact that he returned my wand when he didn't have to, and that he seemed to forgive me."

Harry's kindness had encouraged Draco to try and atone for his past behavior, to heal things between them, and they corresponded and met occasionally over the next few years, beginning to build the start of a strong friendship. It wasn't until after Ginny was murdered to keep her silence about what she knew about corruption and drug use in pro Quidditch, a story she had been covering for the Daily Prophet, that the two of them became closer.

Draco's calming presence helped Harry cope with the grief of losing his wife, and his anger and guilt over his own and the Aurors department's inability to find her murderer. In fact, the perpetrator still remained unknown to this day. Something that was still a sore area for Harry.

It was a year after that incident, when Scorpius was five years old, that Draco realized he was in love with Harry Potter, and that he had probably been in love with him for a very long time. He divorced Astoria amicably, deciding to be true to his feelings, and try to court Harry.

The Christmas Draco is telling Scorpius about, he and Harry had arranged to get together on Boxing Day.

Draco hadn't told his parents about his feelings for Harry, partially because of a bit of cowardice on his part because of what he thought his father would say about it, but mostly because he didn't want to jinx anything. He thought about the former Gryffindor obsessively, and what he thought about mostly was that he had to win Harry's love, and one of the ways he thought he could do that was by getting him the perfect Christmas present.

Draco didn't have the foggiest idea of what that present might be. What he thought, was that he would find something for Harry at one of the shops in Diagon Alley when he came home for Christmas. He had been away on a trip, looking after some of the Malfoy holdings in France, and it was only when he returned to London that he realized the foolishness of his idea.

He wandered up and down Diagon Alley on the day before Christmas in growing desperation. There were a limited number of good choices in town, according to Draco; Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, Florish and Blotts, Quality Quidditch Supplies, and Borgin and Burkes in Knockturn Alley. By mid-afternoon, Draco was buying things out of sheer desperation because he just couldn't find anything that he thought would suit as the 'perfect gift' for Harry. He bought a fruit cake from one of the assorted cafés, a collapsible cauldron from the shop behind the Leaky Cauldron, and an enormous purple toad that came with a box of frozen minnows for it to eat from the Magical Menagerie.

Draco stumbled home on Christmas Eve in a state of despair. There'd be no shopping on Christmas day, and he was leaving the morning after to meet Harry. He just couldn't show up empty handed.

Draco decided his only hope was that his father would get something on Christmas morning that he could 'borrow'. Unfortunately, his father got a new head for his now old cane, a full kit of potion-making supplies, an expensive bottle of three hundred year old red currant rum, and a purple toad with a box of frozen minnows. Nothing that Harry would care for at all.

It was only when everyone was getting ready for bed that the solution dawned on Draco. He would leave early. He would stop in Muggle London on his way to Harry's, and he would get something at the Boxing Day sales.

"That was a good idea," Scorpius said, nodding his head.

"Genius should never be confused with desperation," Draco replied with a shake of his head.

Draco had to stop the story for they had just driven into the car lot. They returned the vehicle, and then Apparated to London. Draco's own magical car was in the parking lot of the London Apparation point, and they got in and he drove them downtown. When he got to the place he wanted to show Scorpius, he pulled over in front of a little store on Charlotte Street, and resumed his story.

When Draco arrived in London on that past desperate Boxing Day, there were exactly three cars on the street when he came into the shopping district. One was his own magically enhanced Bugatti Veyron. The other two were average Muggle vehicles that were parked at the curb, and they had six inches of snow covering them bumper to bumper. There wasn't a soul to be seen, and not a fat chance of any Boxing Day bonanza. Draco had expected hustle and bustle, but unfortunately, Muggle London was shut up tight.

He had three hours before he had to meet Harry, so he took a long, slow drive around the city, looking for any store that might be open. He grew more despondent while the time ticked by, and shop after shop was found to be closed.

And then, when he'd given up all hope, while he was waiting on a red light, when he was heading toward Harry's, he glanced into his rear-view mirror. That's when he saw a woman step up onto the sidewalk behind him, move out of the falling snow, and go under a large store front awning, disappearing through a door into a store.

An open store.

Draco did a U-turn, fish-tailed over to the curb, and threw the Veyron into park, jumping out while the car was still rocking to a stop.

Draco stood there for a moment, looking around, before following the lone set of footsteps across the street, onto the sidewalk, and up to the door. The lights were on, spilling out the store window onto the snowy sidewalk, and there were people inside.

Draco pressed his face to the window. There was a man and a woman in there. Excited and relieved, he grabbed the door handle and pulled. It was locked.

Now, the ability to knock at a locked store door after hours, and convince whoever's in there to throw the door open, is an under appreciated art. Draco pulled out all the stops. Knocking, smiling his most charming smile, and nodding in benign encouragement. But in the end, it was honesty that won the day.

The woman cracked the door open just enough so he could talk to her.

"I'm in a bit of a spot," Draco said, smiling and nodding. "I'm supposed to meet a special friend for Christmas and I haven't…" he hesitated for a moment, and then he let it all out in a rush. "I haven't bought him a present."

The man, who was standing behind the woman, walked over to the door and said, "We're only in here to tidy the shelves. We're getting ready for tomorrow. We aren't supposed to sell things."

The lady turned and looked at the man, and then at Draco.

Draco hadn't given up quite yet. "I know I shouldn't have left it this long. I just thought I could get something at the Boxing Day sales today." He looked pleadingly towards the man, and then the woman; and goodness demonstrated that it is often just looking for an opportunity to reveal itself.

"How can we help you?" asked the woman, stepping back from the door so he could come in.

The display beside him was piled high with heavy woolen sweaters. Coats hung on the wall to his right, and there was a jewelry case by the cash register.

Draco headed right for the jewelry case. He cast his eyes over gold rings, and strands of pearls and bracelets of various quality. And then he saw it, glittering and sparkling on a bed of black velvet. Draco recognized one of the earliest magical symbols that had been made into a broach immediately, and thought it would be a perfect clasp for Harry's Auror robes. It was a delicate interlocking of five exquisitely detailed silver wands in the shape of a pentagram. Although he knew it was Muggle made, he also knew that he could use a simple empowerment ritual on it, and imbue it with a charm for stability, security and strength in the face of adversity. Considering Harry's career, it seemed the ideal gift.

"That one," Draco stated, pointing it out to the woman. "It's perfect."

The lady glanced at Draco in his soggy Fred Perry Skinny Plimsolls, and his hem soaked, immaculately pressed black trousers. "A broach?" she asked perplexedly.

Draco blushed, it must seem odd to her to have a man buying another man a broach, but he already had his wallet out, and was counting his money.

However, she didn't take his money. Instead, she picked up the broach, and held it in the light. "It is very unusual and eye-catching," she said. "Does he wear a lot of jewelry?"

"Well," Draco drawled, losing some of his confidence over the purchase, "not that I remember."

"Have an interest in the occult?" she asked, handing the broach back to him.

Draco sighed. He couldn't very well tell her they were wizards.

If Draco had walked into that store today, and walked right over to that jewelry case by the cash register, and picked that broach up, the woman, whose name is Elizabeth, would have been delighted to sell it to him, as she has been delighted to sell broaches and bracelets to countless men over the years. But the Draco who was standing in front of her on that Boxing Day all those years ago was not the Draco sitting in his car today telling this story to his son.

That was a much younger Draco clutching that broach. And to Elizabeth, he showed every bit of his inexperience, looking awkward, lost, confused, bewildered, and not a little desperate.

"Phillip," Elizabeth called to her husband, "don't just stand there staring, pour this young man a cuppa."

Draco returned the broach to its bed of velvet while Elizabeth plunked the cup of tea onto a table, which she would later pile with scarves. "So," she said, "tell me about your lad."

Elizabeth and Phillip drank their tea while Draco told them all about Harry, his hopes and his dreams for him. All the things you can tell perfect strangers, that you can't tell your family.

Almost an hour passed, and the snow continued to fall gently outside. Elizabeth got up and started walking toward the cash, and then she turned and came back. "You know," she said, and she looked over at her husband who had a box open on the floor and was filling a display with women's socks. "One year Phillip gave me a pair of pinking shears for Christmas. Best present ever."

When Draco left the store a half hour later, he was carrying a little bag. There was a pair of soft suede gloves in the bag. The last thing the woman said to him was, "I think he'll love the gloves. I think they're perfect."

Draco had been smiling. "Me too," he had agreed.

It was dark outside, and the snow had already covered over the footprints he had made on his way in.

"I can still remember exactly what it looked like," Draco told Scorpius, pointing at the awning on the store that he and Scorpius were parked in front of. "Come on," he said, and he and Scorpius got out of the car, and walked up to the window. The store was closed.

"I came down here a few years ago, and on the way home I dropped in," Draco said, peering in the window. "Elizabeth was still here, but Phillip had died. She remembered me though. She made me tea. I told her all about you, Albus, James and Lily."

**§§§§§**

Two days later, back at home with just a few days to go before Christmas, Draco went into Scorpius' room. The young blond was in bed, reading.

Draco was holding a large shopping bag. "This is for you," he said, "to give to Harry. There's wrapping paper downstairs. You should wrap it yourself, and make a card."

Scorpius smiled mysteriously. "It's okay, I got him something myself."

Christmas morning at the Malfoy-Potter household followed its normal routine. They got up early, and Scorpius, James, Albus and Lily came into Draco and Harry's bedroom, and opened their stockings. After that, they had the breakfast that had been prepared by Kreacher. After breakfast, everyone still in their pajamas, they went into the living room and opened presents. Somewhere in the middle of the mess of the morning, Scorpius presented Harry with his gift.

"This if for you," he said, passing over a small rectangle wrapped in Gryffindor red paper with a Slytherin green ribbon that looked like it had been tied by a crazed pixie. It was a Muggle photograph in a black frame, a picture of Draco taken from behind. He was peering into a store window under a big awning.

"It's lovely," Harry said with a large smile, before passing it to Draco to look at.

Draco stared at the photo, and then at his son. "How did you get this?" he asked.

Scorpius smiled shyly. "With your cell phone," he told his father. "I took it when you weren't looking."

"I didn't know I had a camera in my phone," Draco dead-panned to the laugher of everyone. Even after all these years, the former Slytherin still wasn't up on all the Muggle devices that his family seemed so fond of.

Draco passed the picture to Albus, who had been clamoring to see it, but it was James, looking over Albus' shoulder who said, "I don't get it."

Harry looked at his step-son, and then at his husband. Draco seemed to be tearing up. "I don't think I get it either," Harry confessed.

And they all sat there while Draco told the story all over again. Everything he'd told Scorpius before, plus one more small bit.

"When I told Elizabeth about Harry," Draco continued, "I told her that the night Harry came to my house, he didn't have gloves on." He looked at Harry. "Do you remember this? When you passed me my wand, I asked you if your hands were cold." Then he turned to the kids. "He had just flown to the manor on his broom to give me my wand back, and it had been a bitterly cold October day. I could see his hands looked near frost bit. Harry had said yes, that they were cold, but that he rarely wore gloves. He said he felt bad buying new ones because he lost them all the time. And I thought just because he loses gloves, doesn't mean he doesn't deserve new ones now and then."

Harry had never heard the story of how Draco had bought those gloves before. When Draco was finished, Harry looked down at his tea and smiled. Then without a word, he disappeared upstairs. He reappeared a few minutes later, holding a lump of stiff, brown suede in his hands.

The gloves are old now, the fingertips almost completely worn through, and there're small tears in the palms, but Harry held them up proudly. "The only pair of gloves I never lost," he told everyone. Then he put the gloves on the mantelpiece beside the picture of Draco peering into the store window.

There have been many Christmases since that first one. Draco hasn't always been that successful with his gifts, but there have been lots of memorable Christmases. The year Draco decorated the pear tree in the back yard. The year he tried to assemble one of the children's toys…without magic. The Christmas at the Weasley's when he spiked the kids punch by mistake. The year his tongue froze to the TV antennae. The year he decided to cook the turkey dinner.

And that very first gift, the gloves. When Draco managed to tell Harry how he really felt about him.

Scorpius gave his step-father many wonderful things over the years, but this was his first grown-up present. It'll be hard to top, because he didn't only give Harry the picture, or the frame he bought to put it in, he also gave him the story that went with it. A story of a coming together, of a looking back for sure, but most importantly, of a looking forward to all the stories that are yet to come.

THE END

**§ MAY YOUR CHRISTMAS BE MEMORABLE AND FULL OF JOY §**


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